Walking the Crooked Side of Life
by AncientMagnusApprentice
Summary: Levy needed a job...any job, so-when she saw an ad for working at a bookstore-she leapt at the chance: Feet first without looking. Turns out that there is more than one kind of book store, and this one happens to be more of an 'adult' variety. [M for obvious reasons: Mainly language and sexual content]
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything…**

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 **PROLOGUE:**

 **Desperate Times […and all that]**

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Levy paced in front of the storefront for what felt like the dozenth time, though it could have been more. She had lost count during her contemplation of her predicament, reading and rereading the strip of paper torn from the morning's newspaper grasped in her hand. Creases threatening to rip the disfigured portion in two from constant folding and unfolding.

 **Now Hiring: Full-Time Bookstore Clerk …**

It be fair, that had been all she had read earlier that morning. Desperate for a job, she had rushed out of her apartment—piece of toast clenched between her teeth to be finished on the bus—in hopes of acquiring what seemed to be the perfect job for a currently unemployed bibliophile with a literary degree collecting metaphorical dust.

She should have read the posting in its entirety, then she would have been aware that the bookshop seeking out an employee was of the _adult_ line of work. That had come as a shock when, on arriving at the address indicated, Levy noticed the tinted windows—preventing anyone, who may be trying to spy in on merchandise or clientele, from obtaining more than his or her own reflection—and red-lit sign declaring the establishment open for business.

Those were the only indications of disreputable actions and dealings occurring within. At a glance, most would have assumed the establishment to be a boutique with a selective patronage—going by the camera that was undoubtedly taking in every unresolved step Levy made as she tried to work through what she should do next.

She actually had grabbed the handle, wrought iron and delicately crafted, before noticing the sign hanging above the balcony-awing.

 _Fairy Tail Fantasies~_

With a tastefully suggestive outline of a woman containing the name.

Either this was an adult bookstore—better known to those who frequent such places as a porn shop, a more befitting name than the romanticized title others may prefer to assuage mortification of frequenting—or a brothel where the ad iwa being used to lure young prospects in to be sold off as mail-ordered brides.

That was about the time when she actually took the effort to read aforementioned ad and realized that it was allegedly the former of these two grim options.

"Excuse me—"

Levy squeaked at the polite voice sounding behind her, jumping and nearly falling off the curb and into the street if not for the soft, pale hands that gripped her upper arm and gently hauled her back to the safety of the sidewalk.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I just figured things may go easier for your contemplation if you would be able to speak to someone on the matter…rather than spiral into what ifs." The voice was not what Levy would have expected from someone dwelling within the, despite the pristine and demure exterior, the shop she had been wearing down a trench in front of from her pacing. Turning to face the voice's owner, she was even less prepared for the sight of the woman smiling over at her.

Beautiful seemed to pale in comparison. An inadequate adjective nearing insult.

Silver-blonde hair, flowing past her tiny waist and about amble curves, was clipped out of deep-blue eyes. Leaving a face belonging to a porcelain stature from being obscured. Levy would have used the word 'doll' but—like beautiful—such seemed to be an unfit descriptor. In this case it was less from the underwhelming disputation the word left and more from the inappropriate.

Unless the doll in question was being used for perverse reasons. The woman's body being that which, Levy assumed, men considered the ideal fantasy. Tall and statuesque and so very, very different than Levy's petite height and lacking bust…made pear-shape when her hips were factored.

"Um…yeah…sorry…" Levy cleared her throat, trying to consider what next to say, and was saved from such by a sunny smile and the woman politely nudging her way into the conversation with an introduction.

"Mirajane." Hand moved from Levy's arm to grasping at the smaller woman's palm. "The owner."

"You…you own…?" Again, how best to phrase what was going on about her mind?

"A porn shop." Smile growing with eyes dancing with mischievous delight. "Yes. Would you like to come inside? We could talk about the opening far more comfortably in my parlor."

Looking towards the door, Levy couldn't help but recall her other fear regarding what this place may be selling.

"Or, better yet, how do you feel about getting some coffee?"

…

…

…

And that is how Levy found herself sitting in a chic little café with the owner of a porn shop, who politely ignored how Levy was awkwardly churning her sixth package of sugar within a mug that was more sweetener and cream than anything that once resembled coffee.

"It always amazes me how many women find shame in sexual curiosity, as if something is wrong with them for having such urges." Mirajane tapped the neck of her spoon against the rim of her bowl-sized coffee cup. "The purpose of my shop is to create a safe haven, free of judgement, with women's personal preference in mind. Of course, I do have male patrons as well but, you will find, my shelves are more likely to be stocked with erotic fiction and vibrators than blow-up dolls and penis pumps."

Levy nearly spewed her mouthful of over-sweet coffee-colored cream.

"And I prefer to employ women for this very reason. Less threatening, more welcoming. Though, I do have the random male employee. Some for the ambiance—a nice face is always appreciated—and others for a sense of security."

"You need bouncers?" It was the first declarative sentence Levy had managed since their meeting.

The inquiry made Mirajane outright beam, quite possibly interpreting such as genuine intrigue into the position. "Of a sort. More for display—what such represents, that being safety—than necessary. Also, it makes my business partner less conspicuous whenever he makes his presence known." This was added with a conspiring roll off the eye, as if Levy shared an inside joke with the owner. "Regardless, all my employees are expected to work with the best of manners and the upmost of digression."

"I take it that, along with being women, your clients tend to be more from upper society."

"Some, but far from all. Though one of my highest selling erotica series and stand-alone novels are written by an heiress, and a dear friend of mine." A chuckle entered Mirajane's voice as she helped herself so another sip of her brew before she shook her head in a near endearing tick. "Whenever she releases the next installment, the shop is at risk of breaking the dire code or having a line coil about the block in anticipation."

"For erotica?"

Mirajane's smile, which had yet to dim…just shift, turned knowing. "Literary manager?"

"How can you tell?"

A perfectly manicured nail was waved about in front of Levy's face. "Your nose crinkles in distaste whenever I mention it."

"I just...I never understood the appeal for such."

The plots were always so outlandish—just how many millionaires were there lying in wait to fall for a Mary-Sue; the dialogue too…well terrible; the 'love' scenes were almost debasing, even though such was supposed to be created with women in mind.

"Well, she just started a new project." Reaching into her bag, Mirajane withdrew a flash-drive. Holding it out for Levy in invitation. "Might I suggest that, to get a feel for what my shop is about, you give her rough draft a look over? I'm sure Luce would appreciate a notes from a more critical perspective. Maybe, after you read, we can meet up for a dinner and talk about you potentially coming to work for me."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why the hard sell?" She had never known any prospective employer attempt to woo a possible full-timer for such a low-grade position. Unless Mirajane had somehow learned Levy's blood type and need to harvest her organs on the black market.

"I am very selective on who I hire, and I trust my instincts entirely. Those instincts are telling me that you would be a great asset."

"I—"

"No need to give any answer now." Mirajane's chin tilted towards the flash-drive resting in Levy's hand. "Like I said, if nothing else, I'm certain Luce would appreciate fresh eyes on her work."

"And how—"

Leaning forward, Mirajane carefully turned the flash-drive about so the back was facing up. Taped along the length was a piece of what appeared to be a section of note card with Mirajane's name and phone number carefully scribed across.

"Give me a call, one way or another, whenever you're ready. Remember, it just would be working at a shop, not much different than any other retail job. Nothing to be ashamed or scared of."

Levy straightened, closing her fingers about the flash-drive and rested her fists in her lap. "It's not so much fear or shame as-"

"You don't need to tell me that this isn't the way you see your life going." Mirajane held up an understanding hand, smile reassuring and eyes understanding. "We've all been there. How I see things is that life is like a river; it has the course it wants to go in and-while that might divert from the destination you may have had in mind-you can either fight it and try to get to your original destination or you can just go with the current and see where it takes you."

"How very fortune cookie of you." Levy's knuckles went up to rest against her lips, surprised at her brazen disrespect. No matter how much she was leaning against the prospect of employment, there was no reason to be rude. Not when Mirajane had given her nothing but complete respect and kindness.

All her comment merited was a wink. "Just speaking from experience." Rising to leave, Mirajane paused before turning back to Levy. "By the way, if you're at all curious about my shop's starting wage, I guess it would be best to get it over with now. I tend to dislike talking about such things in such a stagnate way but, here is it."

Levy could feel her eyes widen at the amount per hour she could be making. Knuckles whitening from where they held the drive.

All right...maybe this did involve some consideration after all.

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 **A/N: Just a random idea that popped into my mind. A taste – Next chapter, if there is one, will be longer. Let me know thoughts/opinions.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything…**

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 **CHAPTER ONE:**

 **What are the Odds?**

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"Alright, alright, listen up people." Laxus clapped his hands together before cupping them about his mouth, voice drowning out conversation from the gathered staff. It was after hours, the liquor had come out the moment the doors had been locked, and—most importantly—Mirajane was gone for the night.

Frosted beer bottle in hand, finger tips leaving smudges and breaking the condensation into fat droplets, the tattooed blonde walked about the couches, armchairs, and other random bits of furniture scattered about the shop's back break room. "New girl starts tomorrow. From what I hear, she's a meek bookworm suffering from a crippling amount of anxiety. Which bring us to our favorite pastime…" Pausing for dramatic effect, he grabbed the sheet draped over the kitchenette's fridge, whipping it off the appliance to show the whiteboard mounted beneath by the grace of happy cartoon cat magnets. "How long is she going to last?"

Cheers lifted to the ceiling along with glasses and bottles alike.

Holding up a finger, the silent—if only in the professional sense—partner took a long swig of his drink before continuing around the desire to belch. "Just a reminder: Bets can be taken and changed from now till the third day of her employment—that's Thursday for those of you unable to count or without basic knowledge of how calendars work. If the precious Fairy princess does not make it till said third day, whoever is closest at the time of firing or failure will score the pot."

"Am I the only one here who thinks this is needlessly cruel on a basic fundamental-not to mention sociopathic-level?"

"Lucy, you're not an employee—therefore have no say in this staff meeting—and were only invited because you're fucking Dragoneel. Shut up and be pretty." Laxus caught the plate thrown at his head by the pink-haired man that the preciously addressed Lucy was sitting beside. Crumbs of a hastily finished cake scattered about everywhere. "For that, Dragoneel, you have a penalty of five days."

Turning to the board, Laxus wrote: _Natsu [No less than 5 days]_

"Hey! Since when that was a rule?"

Laxus waved the dry-erase towards the fuming employee. "Since you assaulted the man holding the marker. Moving on, who wants to put in first?"

"Ten on her making it all three trial days," pulling off his shirt, the speaker settled on a footstool in front of where his stuff was contained within the row of lockers, "but not coming back on the fourth."

Hand jumping into the air, manicured nails of the other tugging at an ever-present knitted hat, the blue-haired woman placed herself at risk of falling off the end table she settled on the edge of. The closest possible place to the still-shirtless first bidder. "I say the same."

"Juvia, you do know the purpose of betting is to be the one—lone—person to win, not to be used as a means to pretend to share the stripper's thought process, right…" Powerful shoulders shrugged after exchanging glances with bored crimson eyes leaning against the wall be the stock room's entrance. "You know what, never mind."

 _Gray and Juvia = 3 full days…No return [10]_

"Seeing that I can't go less than five days—still think that's a cheat—might as well put me down for twenty on her making it a complete week."

"Week as in five days or week as in seven?"

"Seven."

"Optimism or hubris? We shall see." Beside where he had already jotted down Natsu's name, Laxus amended: _Natsu [No less than 5 days] 7 full [20]_

"I'll take fifteen on five, then."

Laxus lifted a pale brow at the brunette already three drinks ahead of the rest. "You still owe me for the beer."

"You still owe me for the last time you wimped out during _Riding the Bus."_

"Fair enough."

 _Cana = 5 full [15]_

Lifting his chin towards the red eyes hidden behind lank, inky strands of hair, which fell over the bandana tied about a high forehead. "What about Redfox? Been awfully quiet back there."

"From the sounds of it, it would be a miracle if she made it past her first day."

"Sounds like a bet, need an amount."

Squinting those eyes, Redfox leaned forward to better read the board. "Twenty-one."

"Then I want mine to be twenty-two." Natsu shouted out, indignantly.

"Twenty-five." Redfox cut back.

"This is not an auction," Laxus muttered, ignoring more amounts called and turning to the board.

 _Natsu [No less than 5 days] 7 full [_ _20 raised_ _22]_

 _Gajeel Less than 1 day [25]_

"Really? I thought we talked about this."

All spun about to face where Mirajane walked through the door that led to the now empty and dark shop front, almost hitting Cana in her entrance. Liquor was spewed while some jumped to their feet, just from want of something to do with the startled energy.

Guilty children terrified of mother's opinion.

Walking towards where her co-owner snapped the cap back onto the marker, she made a show of slowly reading over the bets. Shaking her head at what she saw, Mira snagged the marker from Laxus' calloused hand.

 _Mirajane = The Long Haul [No less than 6 months] [150]_

"Really?"

"I have a good feeling about her."

"Is your pride that stubborn?"

"I trust my instincts, they rarely steer me wrong."

"Tell that to Jenny."

" _Rarely_ …And we do not speak of that." Mirajane shot a glare at Gajeel, who barely winced...but everyone else around sank back into their chairs, eyes wide and bodies tense in expectancy of what would occur if their employer's infamous temper flared. Instead, after a deep breath, she passed the marker back to Laxus. "I don't see your name anywhere."

"I'm going to wait, see what our legal team advises."

This was greeted with a round of boos while handfuls of slightly stale popcorn was tossed towards the blonde.

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Question: What does one wear on her first day of working in a porn shop?

After three hours of pacing, after a sleepless night, Levy was still without an adequate answer.

Logic whispered that she should just own up to the fact that she would be selling sex. Not sex with herself—of course, that was illegal and frowned upon in most society-but that the merchandise that she would be ringing up and stocking would be used for the undeniable purpose of sexual gratification or enhancement. Why not don a short skirt and minimalistic top?

Logic's other side countered this with the other undeniable fact that Levy would be nothing more than making a fool of herself if she attempted such. She did not ooze sex appeal like some, and there was no respectable reason to force it and make a mockery of herself and her place of employment.

During her meetings with Mirajane over the past fortnight, the store's owner always presented herself in a full-length dress that would have been demure and prime if own by anyone else. Though, Levy held the hard suspicion that her new employer could wear a habit and still be capable of making every female around her feel self-conscious…while every man desired her in not so secret.

Jeans and a T-shirt seemed too casual; she was at the shop to work and, as she saw it, should present herself as such, though—for similar reasons that barred her from attempting at sex appeal—she couldn't seriously consider something along the lines of business casual.

The end result, after hitting her head against the frame of her room's doorway for several long minutes, was her pulling on a pleated skirt and a long-sleeved top caught somewhere between a sweater and a T-shirt. No time for jewelry, ankle boots were tossed on as she sprinted towards the door. Either she made the next bus or she was going to be late on her first day.

She had planned on catching an earlier line but time had gotten away from her and now she had to take the number 5…anxiety that was already mounting throughout her frantic morning reached panic-inducing levels when the bus pulled along the curb.

It had happened years ago, completely different driver, though they all wore the same apathetic expression—undoubtedly not the same vehicle what so ever, but memory still attempted to cripple her when she started to climb the steps to scan her pass. It didn't seem to matter that, back when she last rode this line, the even had occurred through the reverse: she had been hopping down the steps—weighed down by text books and mind busy with her study plans for that evening—when she felt the two swoop in behind her.

A bit cliché, two men in hoodies and those kind of knives that flip about like wings of a butterfly jumping a female walking alone, true. If it was a plot in a book she was reading, Levy would have rolled her eyes at the lack of originality that the scenario held. But it hadn't been a fictitious account for entertainment, it had been a real mugging.

The police, when she filed the report, made the comment that she had been lucky all the assailants took was her purse. The officers did not seem to think that she sense of security matter in the equation. Something that had yet to fully return and now presented itself as dread that made her nauseous at the sight of the neon 5 displayed in the side and front windows whenever she attempted to take the particular line, breaking into a cold sweat at the very thought and having more than one crying fit...all compiling onto itself until she decided it best to move her schedule around the bus lines.

First time back on, on her first day of a new job, and she wanted to throw-up before the doors even shut behind her. Then there was the shaking of her limbs during the entirety of the ride—ironically shorter than any other she would have taken prior and dropping her off significantly closer to the shop—that ended with her hugging her purse to her chest and edging off the bus while attempting to take in her surroundings from every angle.

Only able to take a full breath once her feet were safely on the sidewalk with verification that she was the only one who had exited the bus and the only one within a foot of the bus stop.

Alright, she had survived that experience, one that she was not planning on ever facing again. Especially because she still had five blocks to cover and a frightening short amount of time to do so.

…

…

…

Out of breath and glazed with an unladylike sheen of sweat, Levy gasped for air after her sprint from the bus stop. Hand pressed to the stitch at her side, she gulped down soothing oxygen as she leaned against a light post and tried to regain her composure before turning the corner for the store's entrance.

A woman was exiting what seemed to be an apartment building across the street from where Levy silently vowed to spend more time on cardio; a tiny blonde in a white sundress most would assume to be far far younger than she most likely was, a prejudice Levy shared. Not that questions of if the woman's age actively entered her mind at first sight. Rather, Levy took in the flustered air about the woman, a crimson flush touching her cheeks as she hurried down the building's steps.

A man, decked in tacky crimson leather, darted out of the building in her wake, looking about before catching sight of the woman in white and allowing a predatorial smirk to cross his face.

His voice cut through the morning air. "Hey, wait a moment." Despite his casual steps, the man's long legs would catch the woman without effort.

When the woman didn't acknowledge him, he made to grab her shoulder…

"Sally?!" Quickening her stride, Levy raced over to the blonde—who had crossed the street a few feet down from where Levy stood, throwing her arms about the woman into what she hoped was a hug that didn't look as awkward as it felt. "There you are, I got off at the wrong stop and been wondering about for over an hour."

The woman's golden eyes narrowed in confusion. "Excuse me?"

With a purposeful roll of her own eyes, Levy silently indicated the man looming behind them. To which the woman slowly turned her head and burst into nervous giggles.

"What are you doing out here?"

The man gave a lazy smile, nearly snapping his spine to lower his head closer to hers. "You forgot something."

Holding out her hand, still laughing, the woman accepted the purse—a sparkly clutched—hanging from his clenched fist from a delicate chain.

"Oh…" Levy could feel the blush spread along her neck and up to her ears, backing away and not certain what to do with her hands. "So you know him."

"Yes," the woman beamed, unable to keep from offering Levy a view of her hand, "just got engaged last night…but the thought was appreciated." Turning the hand about into a parting wave, she continued down the way. On closer look, her quick pace and flushed complexion likely had more to do with the excess energy of love than fright or mortal concern.

"Sorry," Levy muttered under her breath, turning to go without making eye contact and colliding with what felt like a solid wall in the process.

Slowly lifting her head, neck cramping from the effort, she took in that—rather than running into a wall—she had hit a man who appeared to be rooted to the corner near her light post's position. Crimson eyes surveyed her from under a furrowed brow. Brows studded with piercings—two at the end of one scared brow and one in the middle of the other—that matched those ranging down his ears and the loop strung through the corner of his bottom lip.

"You thought he was harassing her…"

In her defense, he looked exactly like she would imagine a serial rapist.

This reasoning did not make her feel any less of an asshat.

None of this was said, giving him an opening to snub out the half-smoked cigarette against the stones of the store, and completing his thought.

"Despite what you hear, the pretending to be a woman's friend to deter a pervert only works part of the time. Even less when the intervener looks like you."

"Wat does that mean?"

Looking her over, lingering on certain areas that she did not find evasive as much as judgmental, the man shrugged. "Means that you don't proof much of a buffer."

What to say to that?

All Levy could think of was to straighten her clothes and take purposed steps away from where he lingered. "Be that as it may, you will have to excuse me. I'm late for work."

"Fairy Tail Fantasies?"

"Excuse me?"

"Is that where you're starting?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Nothing really, just thinking I'm about to come into some money and wondering what I should do with that."

"Excuse me, you are?"

"Gajeel Redfox, a co-worker." There was no offered hand or smile, just deadpanned sarcasm.

"Of course you are."

This was a very, very bad idea.

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 **A/N: Thank-you all so much for the reviews/alerts/favorites so far. Not the best chapter, I know—but my ceiling is leaking, so please forgive my scattered mind…along with any/all typos.**

 **Side Note: For those of you who may be familiar—Yes, the engaged couple is Ban and Elaine from Seven Deadly Sins [just started season 2 and can't help love the couple]. This is NOT a crossover—they will never be seen again—but just wanted to tip my hat to their adorable nature.**

 **Please continue to let me know your thoughts~**


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